


Sandstorm

by marcicat



Category: Frank Herbert's Children of Dune (2003)
Genre: Gen, cuddle!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcicat/pseuds/marcicat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, just cuddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sandstorm

_“He runs, and runs, and runs.”_

 _  
_

__

He could hear her words echoing in his mind, as clearly as if she was speaking them again.  At the time he’d been preoccupied by the question of his own death.  Now, with Leto freshly appeared in front of him, he could be nothing but focused.

 

 _“And when he is exhausted, he comes to me.”_

 

Bad timing, he thought, but of course the Atreides did nothing by accident.  “Ghanima is... not here,” he said anyway, cursing the hesitation in his voice.  He reminded himself that as Ghanima’s husband-to-be, he had every right to be in her quarters.  

 

“I know.  I wanted to talk to you.”  Leto smiled, and it was the smile that said ‘At this very moment I am seeing a future where you die in a particularly humorous way, and I invite you to share in the joke of your own demise.’  

 

He didn’t smile back.  Instead, he found himself saying, “We had one, you know.  A worm.”  Now that he’d started telling the truth, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.  “I used to watch it,” he said, because Leto would already know the creature hadn’t survived.  Apparently none did, away from Dune.

 

Leto’s attention turned on him like the sun’s heat, and he felt trapped by the unblinking gaze.  A hundred completely inappropriate things flashed through his mind.  Finally, he managed, “You remind me of it, sometimes.”  It was a stupid thing to say, but true -- the restless energy, the sense of endless motion -- it was oddly familiar. 

 

That got him a half of a smile.  “Only sometimes?”  

 

Before he could respond with anything even more embarrassing, Leto shifted suddenly and said, “You know you owe me your life.  Ghani was planning to kill you on your wedding night.”

 

He had expected his life to be forfeit.  In truth, he wasn’t sure what to do with it anymore.  “Yes,” he said carefully.  “Thank you.”  

 

They stood there, silent, each studying the other.  Their choices had been made, and it had led them to this.  It felt intensely awkward to do nothing, and yet he knew it would only be taken as an insult if he offered hospitality, as if Leto was merely an honored guest.

 

“That’s why you don’t fear me,” Leto said.

 

There was no point in lying, so he nodded.  “My death belongs to Ghanima.”  

 

“And you accept that?”  Leto was circling, slowly.

 

“Against all odds, I find myself content.”  He hesitated, then added, “Curious, but content.”

 

“Curious?”

 

His fingers twitched, and he was sure Leto didn’t miss it.  That half smile flickered over his face again.  “You can touch.  Ghanima does.”

 

Yes, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes, but they were pre-born and twins and they ignored rules and custom with a flair he could only admire.  He reached out a hand anyway, and Leto met him halfway.  

 

The feeling was -- indescribable.  The scales seemed to shift under his fingers, and then he looked more closely, and they didn’t just seem to shift.  “You control it?” he asked.

 

“More or less.”

 

He frowned.  “So when Ghanima speaks to the court of your agony --”  He cut himself off, not daring to finish the sentence.

 

Leto shifted in a way that could have been a shrug.  “There is a fine line between pain and pleasure.”

 

 _That_ was more than he thought he wanted to know, but he still followed up with, “I thought you just enjoyed going everywhere barefoot and shirtless.”

 

“Side benefit,” Leto said, and grinned.  For a moment it was easy to forget his last name.

 

“Will you stay?” he asked impulsively.  No one would ever believe him, but this version of Leto seemed surprisingly -- approachable.

 

“Of course.”

 

~ _epilogue ~_

 _  
_

__

It was dark when the sound of Ghanima’s voice dismissing her attendant woke him.  Light spilled in through the doorway when she entered, and he stifled the urge to bury his head in the pillow to avoid it.

 

From behind him, Leto made a noise that was either a loud yawn or a quiet growl, and he froze.  It was _close_ behind him.  “Ghani, the light,” Leto complained.  

 

Ghanima didn’t seem concerned -- or surprised -- to see them.  She winked at him.  “I can’t admire two beautiful men in my bed?”

 

“Admire us in the morning,” Leto said.  “Sleep now.”

 

He thought she would pick the far side, next to Leto, but after the room went dark again, it was the covers closest to him that rustled with her movements.  He shifted, and found himself sandwiched between them, drifting comfortably back to sleep.  

 

Against all odds, indeed.


End file.
